Adrenaline
by LEYTON-NALEY
Summary: "This isn't the first time. Usually it's because I want him. Tonight I think it's because I need him. Every time... he protests. Then... gives in."
1. Trying to Wrap Up this Feeling

**A/N: The quote in the summary came from Catwoman in the New 52 comic series. It completely inspired this short fic, in which Felicity is a hero _before_ Oliver returns from the island. Felicity is going to be very demanding and in control here, much like Catwoman. And just like Batman, Oliver will attempt to resist, but will end up failing miserably. There will be six parts to this story. **

* * *

**Chapter One**

He knows about her. About how she sneaks off into the night, well after her hours of working a normal, boring job, saving the city from her place behind her screens and tech. About how she protects the city without expecting any recognition for it in return, because her only intention is to help those in need of it. He knows about her, and she likes that he does.

Because she knows about him, too. She knows how he wraps himself in green leather, lurking the streets at night, hopping from one rooftop to another in hopes of saving the day. Honestly, there isn't a person in Starling City that _doesn't_ know about him. It's a dangerous life they lead, there's no denying that. It isn't often a martyr rises from the ashes of their broken city, ready to make the changes needed in order to save lives.

The first night she found out she wasn't alone, was shortly after the return of Oliver Queen. She should have pieced it together then, she knew that. She ridicules herself for that whenever she thinks about it for too long. The news had been displaying acts from the vigilante in green who was saving the innocent one sloppy recovery at a time.

She thought he wasn't going to last, that he'd see their city was beyond saving and move onto an easier task, like Metropolis. But after a month of him still making his daily appearances in the papers, she knew he was there to stay. That had made her smile, the knowledge that she was no longer in this by herself.

Though she never got out there into the havoc of it all, she made a huge difference. It was incredible what a degree from MIT in computer sciences could do when it came to hacking into the one-percenter's bank accounts without leaving a trace behind. People had a code name for her, too.

The Hacktivist.

She'd actually snorted the first time she saw herself being referred to as that online. Then, it started to grow on her. By day, she was Felicity Smoak, rambly IT grunt of Queen Consolidated. By night, she was the Hacktivist, still rambly, but with no one around to overhear her. She loved her life.

The longer that vigilante, who the people began to refer to as 'The Arrow', remained in town, the more curious Felicity became. One night, after she'd noticed how he was actually really getting the hang of being a good guy, she'd decided she was going to look for him. She knew he wouldn't be hard to find, and once she found out where his base of operations was, she thought he'd even be willing to strike up a partnership.

So she was surprised when he found her first.

It was about four months after his arrival to the city, and she was working on draining a drug smuggler's bank account and putting the money into a children's hospital, when she got that uneasy, chilling feeling in the pit of her stomach. She only ever got that feeling when something important was going to happen, and this time was no exception. Then, she heard him, his clearly modulated voice making her insides twist.

"Hacktivist."

He didn't ask it, he stated it. He knew who she was, and she knew there was no use in trying to deny it. So, she turned around, finding him across the room from her, the shadows covering everything but his arms. His very muscular, very _attractive_ arms.

"How did you find me?" she asked, surprisingly comfortable with the fact that he was seeing her face, as no one else had done when she was being her alter-ego.

Her base of operations was underneath an abandoned warehouse just on the outskirts of the city. She'd discovered it when she was house-hunting, and imagined it being perfect for her secret work. No one ever went around it, and in case someone ever did, she had the entire place locked down. Even the most creative of people wouldn't be able to break into it.

It took skill.

"I've been searching every warehouse in Starling City to find you for the past four months, and I just so happened to get lucky tonight," he answered, an audible smugness in his voice, though she had no idea what it was for.

It had taken him four months to find her, and she could have found him in under four minutes. But that was beside the point. Clearly, he wanted something. There was no other reason for him to go through the trouble of finding her. Still, she remained somewhat curious.

"Why'd you only check warehouses?"

He took a step forward, somehow sinking _further_ into the shadows. "Isn't that where all heroes hold their base at?"

She managed a cackle, cocking her head at him. "So, am I right to assume that that's where I'll find you at?"

"Do you want to find me?" he asked, and any humor in the room was vanquished.

She swallowed, deciding she'd had enough with the little dance they were doing. "What are you doing here?"

"People talk about you."

"Yeah, I know. They talk about you, too. 'Starling City's personal savior takes down another scumbag'," she quoted, not amused. "What does that have to do with you tracking me down?"

Another step forward, and this time, she could actually make out his jawline. Those pictures the media had did _not_ do him justice.

"I want to know why."

She knit her brows together. "Why what?"

"Why you do this," he clarified. "I want to know why you decide to help this city, even though mostly everyone has given up on it."

She shrugged. "I don't know. I wasn't even born here, you know?" She glanced up at him, shaking her head at herself when she realized he hadn't even reacted to her words. "Of course you don't know that. What am I talking about?"

"You risk your life for a city you weren't born in?" he summarized, sounding so uncertain, she thought someone else had slipped on that hood. "I don't understand."

"I moved here after college. One night, I realized I could put an end to the greedy bastards of this city, and give back to the people who really needed it. All I do is sit behind a bunch of computers. Never, have I gone out into the middle of the action like you do. The fact that you'd consider what I do as me risking my life is actually quite humorous."

He was suddenly right in her space, hovering over her chair and forcing her to look up at him. "What you're doing is incredible. Don't, for a second, think that what you do isn't a risk. When I heard about you..." He exhaled, and she caught the way his hands flexed at his sides. "I had to find you."

"Find me for what?" she whispered, her voice refusing to sound any louder than that.

He took a while to respond, and when he did, she was not expecting those words. "To say thank you."

He left after that, and she thought about him all night long. He'd gone out and put three men in jail after he'd left her base, and she didn't bother with trying to locate him. Something had told her that he'd be back.

* * *

It took her three more weeks after that to realize he was Oliver Queen. She was at Queen Consolidated, working her day job, when she'd gotten onto the elevator with him. They'd been the only two on there, and when he saw her, he immediately did a double-take. She'd given him a strange look, asking him if he was alright. His flustered response and awkward ramble was what gave him away.

Well that, and the jaw that she'd been itching to sit on that she quickly recognized.

She'd looked at him after she'd figured it out - and this was all before the elevator had reached her stop - and smiled. "It's okay," she'd assured, the way he was squirming giving her the advantage she normally didn't have around him. "Your secret is safe with me."

The elevator had so conveniently reached her stop right there, and she'd left him behind, completely speechless. He'd shown up as his leather-loving persona at her warehouse later that day, still off and twitchy after what she'd learned about him. He knew _her_ identity, and she didn't find it as big of a deal. Actually, he knew what she looked like. She hadn't told him anything else about her since they'd met, and that had been after several of his late night drop-ins for meaningless chats about which villains they'd taken out that night.

"Felicity."

She knew right then that he'd spent his day reading up on her, and she wasn't fazed in the slightest. As a matter of fact, she'd be shocked if he _didn't_ read up on her. The fact that they both knew each other's real names brought a new layer to their relationship, if you could even call it that.

"You know my name, and now I know yours," she said, getting up from her chair. "It doesn't have to be a big deal."

His feet remained planted to the ground, his hood still drawn over his head to conceal his identity. Though she couldn't see his face that well, she knew he was watching her. His gaze always made her skin heat, and it was on fire at this point.

"I'm actually glad you came by," she started, approaching him slowly now. "I wanted to talk to you about something." When he still didn't speak, she continued. "Do you work alone? Or do you have your own team? Because as far as I know, it's just you."

He locked his jaw. "I have a partner. He doesn't get in the middle of the action like I do, so the media doesn't speak of him."

She nodded. "Well, I was wondering if you were maybe interested in another member? I could help you out with your nightly escapades," she offered, and nothing was coming out the way she'd practiced it in the mirror. "I just mean that I-"

"No," he interrupted, his word short and sure.

"What?" she choked out, feeling her eyes start to burn.

He stepped back, beginning to retreat. "I don't need anymore help."

"Wait!" she blurted, surprised when he actually froze. "Why did you come here?"

He turned his profile to her, letting out a steady breath. "I don't know."

She didn't call after him. She didn't beg him to stay, and plead for him to hear her out. She'd been doing just fine on her own without him, so there really was no reason for her to work with him. It had been a kind gesture on her part, but if he didn't see it that way, then she shouldn't beat herself up over it. That night, she let him go, telling herself that he'd be back.

And yet again, she was right.

* * *

The next time Oliver came to see her was after a bank she was in got robbed. He came to her in the night, dressed in his leather, claiming to have seen her on the news. It made sense, and she confirmed the story, already over it. That guy wasn't really the murdering type, and the police had him in custody. She thought he'd be over it too, but he wasn't in the slightest, acting as though it'd been him in that building.

"Look, you've been ignoring me for weeks," she reminded him, really trying not to get too ticked off. "Why are you here now? I'm alright. You should just go back to brooding with your single partner in your warehouse."

He growled - _like,_ _actually made the feral noise_ \- and ate the space between them in thick strides, his body making contact with hers for the first time. His hands were all over her, checking, searching for anything out of the normal. She looked at his face, past his eye mask, just letting him do this, because something told her that he needed to.

"You could have been killed today," he told her, apparently done with the pat down, yet refusing to step out of her space.

She looked down, finding her voice. "You sound like you actually give a damn."

He let out a noise of frustration, gnashing his teeth together. "I do give a damn, Felicity."

"You don't even know me," she scoffed, finding him a little ridiculous now. "You tell me that you care about what I'm doing for this city. Then, I find out your name, and you have a freaking panic attack. I offer to assist you in your nighttime activities, and you blow me off without any hesitation whatsoever. After you ignoring me for _weeks_ , you expect me to believe that you were concerned for my well being today?"

"It's the truth," he muttered, still using that modulated voice that was really making her skin itch.

She reached up, yanking his hood down. His eyes flashed from behind his mask, but she didn't care about how surprised he was. She was fucking _done_. She was done with his games, with his random drop-ins, with his screwed up morals, and his stupid identity issues. If he wanted to have a real conversation with her, then he needed to stop with the facade.

"Stop... _hiding_!" she huffed, her words slipping through her clenched teeth. "I already know who you are! If I haven't told anyone by now, then don't you think you can trust me?!"

He staggered back, relying on the shadows of the warehouse. She wanted to scream. She wanted to throw a fit, punch something, just release all of this anger and frustration she held for someone who was practically a stranger to her.

Instead, she kissed him.

She didn't know why she did it. Her body had been yelling at her to either kiss him, or ram her fist into his face. Then, her mouth was overlapping his, her arms wrapping around his neck, boxing him in. Now, he really staggered backwards, her weight making him stumble. But he soon caught his footing, gluing himself to the spot as his hands found her hips.

It was all sloppy and messy and she swore at one point his mouth swallowed her's whole. She didn't care. All she cared about was the fact that it felt... _good_. Damn it, it felt amazing. He was so tall and strong, and his mouth was like a weapon in an entirely new sense of the word. His mask kept irritating her face, so she ripped it off, pulling back to look into his eyes.

And then, it was as though he'd known she was seeing him now, his face, recognizing him as a person, and not just as some vigilante. He pushed her away, not roughly, but enough for her to need to steady herself before she could get her heart rate under control. She only stared at him, confused and awaiting an explanation.

"This... This was a mistake," he sputtered, and she smirked at how absolutely frazzled he looked.

His eyes were wild, his hair tousled from her insistent tugging. His chest was moving up and down at an uneven pace, and his hands were fidgeting with what she told herself was restraint, because she knew that whatever the hell she'd just felt, he'd felt it, too. He wanted this, she wanted this, and there was just no damn way she was going to let him walk out of there again without having him.

"You don't regret it," she stated, not needing to question him about it.

He swallowed, refusing to meet her stare. "That's not the point."

She rolled her eyes, striding over to him again, using one hand to cup the back of his neck, and tugged his face down to hers. Just like the first time, he took over, attacking her lips with a ferocity she'd never received from another man before. Kissing him was like a drug. She hated drugs with a passion, but the idea of him, a man who she knew could screw up her entire life if she gave him too much, only made her want more.

When his teeth sunk softly into the plumpness of her lower lip, she moaned, pressing her body into his. He was straining against his leather, and she whimpered in both sympathy and arousal. He bit her lip a little harder, and she knew that was his way of encouraging her on. So, she took the initiative, bringing her hand down to where she presumed his zipper would be.

"Stop," he breathed, breaking away again, but she only continued. "God dammit, Felicity, just _stop_!"

If it were any other guy pulling this shit with her, she would have let him walk away. But no, this was Oliver, the Arrow, the man who screwed her head up ever since he showed up in her warehouse nearly five months ago. He wasn't leaving there because she knew that they both wanted this. Maybe she wanted it a little more, but he still wanted it, nonetheless.

She advanced on him for the third time that night, shoving him until he fell into her computer chair. He wasn't putting up a fight, which she took as a good sign. However, the clenched jaw he kept told her that she was really pissing him off now. He'd told her no, and she wasn't taking that for an answer. The amount she cared really surprised her.

"You stop," she retorted, staring down at him with an unflinching gaze. "Stop pretending like you don't want this. Stop acting like you're above this, like you've never fucked a girl just because it felt good, and you needed to feel something for the night."

She watched his eyes darken, his throat working as he swallowed. Her fingers found that zipper on his leather again, tugging at it until he was sighing in relief, practically deflating into her chair. Dropping to her knees, she clutched his pants in her fists, bringing them down his legs, but not taking them off. He had briefs on, and she decided not to go through the hassle of removing those out of the way as well, since she could easily just pull him out.

Reaching for the hardness in his lap, she revealed him to her, licking her lips at the sight. He was breathing heavily now, his eyes lidded as he gazed down at her. Yeah, she was definitely not doing _that_ tonight, because she needed to get her own pleasure, too. That had been the whole point of this, right?

Felicity got to her feet, stepping out of her panties, but leaving her skirt on. It was flow-y, and she knew that wouldn't get in the way as well. Tonight wasn't about them taking their time, or learning each other's bodies. It was about trying to feel something, even if it was only pleasure. As she crawled onto his lap, she spoke to him, her filter long past working the little amount it barely did when she wasn't straddling hot men in leather.

"I want you to fuck me hard, okay?" she instructed, taking him in her hand, and spreading the pre-cum at the head of his cock around and around with the pad of her thumb. "I want you to make me feel you for days after."

He growled again, a sound she was starting to really love. Then, his hand was up her skirt, his fingers closing in around her clit. Jumping when he rolled it between his thumb and pointer finger, she gripped him harder, hearing him hiss into her ear.

But this wasn't about foreplay. She wasn't going to jack him off, and he wasn't going to finger her until she uncoiled. No, this was about sex. Rough, hard, never-forget-it sex. If he wasn't going to stick to that on his own, then she was going to remind him to.

Wrapping her hand around his base, she guided him to her, entering only the tip, but already feeling her body ache in response. God, it had been way too long since she'd had this. She needed it.

"Feli- _Fuck_ \- Felicity," he cursed out, pressing his fingers into her hips so hard, she knew there'd be bruises the next day. "Just... Damn it!"

"Clearly, you can't think," she interrupted, squeezing her other hand around his shoulder. "Leave the talking to me, okay? Or, you know what? How about we don't talk at all?"

He leaned back into the chair, looking up at her with wild eyes. She waited, waited for him to agree, to tell her to continue. All she got was a nod, but that was good enough for her. She let herself slide down him, her body clenching in response. He groaned along the way, his eyes frantic now as he looked at her. She'd tilted her head back, her muscles singing around him.

She didn't take her time, she didn't need it. No, she went straight for it, riding him quick and rough, using her hold on his shoulders to propel her up and down him. He had a tight grip on her waist, providing the small amount of guidance she really didn't need. She didn't look into his eyes, she didn't hold him close, or whimper his name. She used him, because that was the only way she could describe it.

Her movements were jerky and mindless towards the end, and all she could think about was how close she was to that release she needed more than anything in that moment. Oliver was very vocal from his spot beneath her, his constant growls and groans getting lost between her shouts of pleasure. He was also very crass, but she appreciated that from him.

Soon, she was arching back, her nails sinking into his flesh as she came. He thrust into her without purchase as she came, only prolonging the strong waves of pleasure for her. Then, he was burying his face into her neck, clinging onto her as he met his own release. She felt her hands close around the hair on his head, her eyes squeezing shut as he spilled himself into her.

When he finally caught his breath, he let her go, and she pulled back, shoving away any intimacy that followed the moments after. He watched her, and she shrunk under his gaze, pushing herself off of him, and pulling him out of her. The action made her flinch, but she hid it well enough. She fixed her skirt, picking up her panties to put on once he was gone, because she knew he wouldn't be staying long now.

"You can just... leave," she told him, really not wanting to make a big deal out of it.

He remained quiet as he redressed his lower half, and she stood with her back to him. She saw him come around her from the corner of her eye, fighting the urge to react. He only slipped past her, heading for the exit to the warehouse. Her eyes stuck to the floor, refusing to risk a glance his way. But he paused on his way out, calling out to her.

"Felicity?" he murmured, his voice hoarse as she looked up at him. "I'm glad you didn't die."

When he was gone she fell back into her chair, feeling completely spent and strange. "Yeah, me, too," she whispered, trying to get back to her previous task, but finding it much harder than it should have been. "Me, too."

* * *

 **A/N: Reviews make me happy!**


	2. Falling Apart Instead

**A/N: Thank you for the support for this story! Just a warning, the chapter lengths will vary.**

* * *

 **Chapter Two**

She didn't see him for two more weeks after that, and she told herself that she was fine with it. What they'd done was easy, and called for no attachments. It wasn't like she was expecting a phone call from him, or to stumble upon a dozen roses on her doorstep or anything. Still, she figured he would have at least contacted her, just to see how she was handling her second, more dangerous job like he'd done before.

When he did come back, he was dressed in his usual attire, and she would have thrown a fit about it had he not left the voice modulator off. He walked into her warehouse, his steps cautious, as if he feared for how she would react to him being there.

"Didn't count on ever seeing you again," she called out, swiveling in her chair to face him.

He shifted, his hood drawn over his head. "I need your help."

She felt her eyebrows raise, because that was the last thing she was ever expecting to come out of his mouth. "Y-You need _my_ help?"

"Felicity," he ground out, clearly not in the mood for games.

Good, she wasn't either.

"What do you need my help with?"

He stepped forward, approaching her with a scrap of paper in his hand. He handed it over, and she took it, examining it quickly. On the paper was a tiny note, the handwriting scribbled and messy, and she knew he'd written the message down himself. For some reason, the sight of his handwriting made her stomach do this strange, twisty thing. Weird.

"What am I looking at here?" she prompted, not understanding the jumble of letters.

"That's the name of someone whose made a habit of trafficking young women," Oliver explained. "I need you to tell me where I can find him."

Felicity stared agape for a few seconds, before getting into the zone, setting her fingers over her keyboard, and typing away. Oliver stood behind her the entire time, his presence making her slightly uneasy. She tried to shake off that feeling, but when she realized it wasn't going anywhere, she just worked around it. Five minutes later, she had his location, her facial recognition software working extra hard tonight.

"He's out of town right now, but his bank account is showing that he bought a ticket for a flight back to Starling City scheduled for tomorrow night," Felicity informed him, tilting back in her chair to look up at him.

He didn't flinch, only staring at the address on her screen. "I guess it'll have to wait then."

He turned on his heels to leave, and she was, for some strange reason, offended by the action. "Hey," she called after him, getting up from her chair. "A 'thank you' would be nice."

He looked down at her, his jaw set. "Thank you."

Before he could even attempt to walk away again, she reached out her hand, grasping him at his upper arm. "You know what? I've had the shittiest week ever, okay? Brandon from IT has been riding me about the new project he's put me on - though there is no reason for this project to even exist - and my nightly job hasn't been leaving me much time for after hours with it. If I can't find a way to pull both off, he'll fire my ass for sure."

"What do you want me to do about it?" he questioned, and now, she had reason to be offended.

"I wasn't asking you to do something about it. All I wanted was for you to show a little appreciation for me after what I just did for you. You don't see me ever asking you for things," she pointed out.

He grit his teeth. "Is there something you want from me?"

And with that question, sparked the idea of him filling her again, sending her to that far away place she rarely got to escape to. Her body throbbed as if to support that thought, her craving for him suddenly like a slap in her face. She knew his plans had been cleared away for the night, and after the week she'd had, she deserved this.

That's really all the convincing it took for herself before she reached for his mouth with her own, colliding the two in a passionate mold. Her tongue parted his lips, sweeping through his mouth as she pulled his hood down, bunching his hair into her fist. He growled into her mouth, biting her lip so hard, it drew blood. Yelping, she pulled back, and he cowered away from her like _she'd_ been the one to hurt _him_.

"That wasn't what I was offering," he snapped, his eyes fierce.

Hiding her embarrassment, she grit her teeth, meeting his gaze unflinchingly. "Well, as far as I can tell, that's about the only thing you could ever do to help me," she told him, and he actually looked dented by her words.

Then, his eyes lit with a fire that sent chills down her spine, and he nearly tackled her to the ground as his body crashed into hers. She let out a gasp, wrapping her arms around his large frame to balance herself, fearing that she'd fall to the ground. When she looked up at him, he was smirking, and she actually felt herself begin to smirk back at him.

"When I fucked you, Felicity," he started, drawing in a shaky breath, "did I make you forget?"

She felt like she was trembling, but she'd never admit to it. "Forget about what?"

He traced a finger from her ear to her shoulder, sending her nerves into a frenzy. "Forget about all of this corruption and despair that surrounds this city," he answered, his breath drifting over her ear. "It made me forget. No one makes me forget, but you... _did_."

"Not all of it is bad," she whispered, her eyes catching each and every movement in his face, every muscle ticking, every breath shuttering through him as he focused his attention on the small goosebumps he was spawning all over her skin. "Some of it is good."

His eyes jumped up to hers, questioning. "Like what?"

She swallowed, bringing her lips to his, her touch soft this time. His brows furrowed as he kissed her back, keeping the kiss gentle, innocent. It was her who kicked it up a notch, sighing into his mouth as she curled her tongue around his own. Then, it was like she'd released a beast, his hands and mouth everywhere at once. She could hardly keep up, let alone think straight.

"Like what, Felicity?" he repeated, his hands curving over the slope of her ass, pushing her into his rapidly hardening length. "Tell me what's good."

Gasping, she burrowed her hips into him, using him for friction. Her fingers felt numb as she clawed them down his cheek, only pausing once she'd reached the zipper to his costume, her hand cupping him through the material. He hissed, gripping her tightly to him in encouragement. She didn't need the guidance. Her hand penetrated the leather, holding him in a grip that made him mutter very dirty things against the shell of her ear.

She whimpered as he thrust up into her hand, already feeling the ache between her thighs moisten in anticipation for the object in her grasp. "Fucking you," she breathed, his lips attacking her neck as she tried to clarify. "Fucking you is good. It- It feels good."

He gathered her dress up, his hands rubbing her thighs. "Yeah," he murmured, his fingers looping around her panties, and tugging them down. "It feels good."

She felt her breath catch the moment he bent her over her desk, entering her swiftly from behind. He gave no warning, and due to how wet she was, he had no trouble gliding right in. Her eyes squeezed shut, her nails digging into the wood underneath her palms, scratching for anything to hold on to. He held her dress in his fist, and she could hear him groaning from behind her, clearly just as affected as she was.

"Are you forgetting yet?" she asked, still propping herself up as she waited for him to make another move.

He rolled his hips into hers, and it almost felt like a scolding for contradicting him. "Starting to," he grumbled, then swung forward until every single inch of him was buried inside of her. He groaned again, hanging his head. "You shouldn't be allowed to feel this good."

Her confidence soared at that, and she wriggled her hips, making him curse her name out in a jumble of words she didn't recognize as English. Whatever it was, it was erotic as hell, and she was overcome with this need to just have him _moving_ , making her feel the things that she knew no one else could ever do, because truly, no one had ever made her come as hard as he did two weeks ago.

And that was with her doing most of the work.

His hands curved around her sides, getting a decent grip on her, right before giving her a strong thrust. She let her head hang, resisting the urge to scream his name out at the tops of her lungs. She refused to be that person, especially since this was nothing more than just a fuck. That, apparently, made him angry, because he suddenly tugged her up to him by her hair, his lips right against the shell of her ear.

"Stop holding back," he demanded, continuing to shallowly thrust into her as he spoke. "Say my name, Felicity. I want to hear you."

She shivered, letting out small whimpers as he brought her closer and closer to her peak. He was so domineering right now, she couldn't decide if it was turning her on, or pissing her off. Either way, she wasn't going to scream out his name. At least, not without a _really_ good reason. However, she had no problem with him yelling out _her_ name.

With her lips tucked tightly together, she felt as he pounded harder into her, knowing he was trying to get her to call his name out. He was so good at it, she was almost tempted a few times. His constant thrusting was mind-boggling, to the point where she couldn't even remember _her own_ name if she tried. Frustrated, he loosened his hold on her, and she went back to gripping the desk.

"Stubborn..." he trailed off, enunciating the word with a jerk of his hips. "Why won't you just do it?"

She felt him hit her right where she needed it, the spot sending fireworks behind her eyes. "Because this... fuck- this isn't about tha- ah!"

Oliver kept pounding the spot repeatedly, his speed quickening as he brought her closer and closer to the edge. His fingers really dug deep into her hips, his grip tight as he kept her in place. The last time, she'd been right in expecting bruises from him. She didn't know if he did that with everyone, but she knew he did that with her. She didn't mind in the slightest.

"What is it about?" he prodded, and she would have rolled her eyes had she not been closing them so tightly.

She didn't answer, afraid what the consequences of parting her lips could be. She didn't trust herself to not say his name, and there was no telling what he would do once she did. It would probably triple the size of his ego. Yeah, he didn't need that happening.

Her limbs started to go numb, and that brilliant tingling began to take over. She held her breath, her body stilling as wave after wave of pleasure rippled through her, making Oliver hold her tighter, move faster. She was just coming down from her high when he came, crying out as he used his hold on her hips to help him finish. After several moments, she tried to stand up and walk away, but he pulled her back against his chest, still inside of her.

"Tell me what this is about, Felicity," he told her, his hold on her letting her know that he wasn't backing off until he got an answer.

She sighed, trying to act unaffected. "This is about... feeling something," she finished, knitting her brows together. "We're both spending so much time saving other people, we don't take the time to save ourselves. This thing that we're doing... it's helping us ignore that. I'm not fucking you to get attached, or to make you care about me. I'm doing it to make up for the giant hole in my life."

He didn't reply, but he let her go, pulling out of her, and fixing his pants. She brought her panties back up, straightening out her dress and turning around to face him. His hood was back on, and she was struck with a flare of anger when she realized he'd left his mask on the entire time. The fact that he hid himself from her like that was infuriating, which was a little hypocritical on her part, considering how closed off she was being with him.

When he didn't say anything, only staring at her from behind his costume, she began to walk away, heading for her computers. She didn't make it more than ten steps before he was speaking, his words stopping her in her tracks.

"And what if I care, Felicity?"

She swallowed, taking a moment to think about it before murmuring over her shoulder, "Don't."

* * *

 **A/N: Please review! :)**


	3. Holding on to a Moment

**A/N: I'm glad you guys seem to be enjoying this! Here's another chapter for you! :)**

* * *

 **Chapter Three**

Felicity placed a hand over her forehead, finding herself at a brick wall. She had absolutely no idea what to do next, and she'd been stuck for the past hour. Work was so stressful, and the project she was assigned should have been done days ago. They always gave her the impossible tasks, expecting her to just pull them off in an impractical amount of time.

With her second job, she couldn't always accomplish that.

There was a hard knock on her door, and she looked up to see Brandon, her boss, standing there with a faux smile on his stupid face. Felicity literally had to resist the urge to chuck something at his head.

"Felicity," he acknowledged, invading her office like he tended to do. "How's that project coming along? I think I remember asking for it days ago, but I might just be developing a bad memory."

She put on her fake smile as well, shifting to face him. "I've been struggling with it a little. I'll try to have it to you as soon as possible."

"Well, if I would have known you couldn't handle it, I would've given it to someone else. I was just under the impression that you were the best," he replied, placing his hands in his pockets. "I'd hate to discover that you can't do your job, Felicity."

"I can handle it," she nearly snapped, fighting down her tears of frustration that were always brought on whenever she was underestimated. "Just... give me a couple more days, okay? I promise, I'll get it done."

Brandon stared at her, his face hard. "You have 48 hours."

Felicity nodded, trying to act appreciative, when she actually wanted to scream into a pillow. Instead, she stood from her chair, keeping herself as composed as possible as she pushed past Brandon, heading for the bathroom. She'd lose it in there, but not a second before. The tears that sneaked out of her eyes were warm, and she cursed them for disobeying her, keeping her head ducked low in case anyone was staring.

Her body collided with another's roughly, and she felt herself stumble back, nearly tumbling to the floor. However, the other person grabbed her, holding her steady with their arms. She looked up, finding Oliver standing only inches away from her, concern on his face. She was so upset, she didn't even have time to freak out about the fact that she was seeing him in person, his other attire probably stashed away somewhere safe. He seemed to process her tear-soaked cheeks, because his brows knit in both anger and compassion.

"Felicity," he started, his voice dangerously close to his Arrow one.

He didn't have to say more. She knew what he was thinking. She knew what he was asking.

 _Why are you crying?_

 _Who did this to you?_

 _Where are they so that I can do very barbaric things to them?_

She broke out of his grasp before she lost it completely, cursing to herself over her terrible luck. "It's nothing," she whispered.

"Don't take long, Ms. Smoak," Brandon called out, and she looked over her shoulder at where he was still standing in the entrance of her office. "You don't exactly have a lot of time for bathroom breaks."

Felicity kept walking, surprised by the fact that Oliver had let her go. She'd half been expecting him to chase after her, demanding she tell him what was wrong. Not that she would have told him, because they didn't do that kind of thing. But maybe, she would have let him be her shoulder to cry on. Because at this point, she really needed a good cry.

She hadn't seen him in weeks. He'd been avoiding her, and that probably had something to do with the fact that she basically forced herself upon him every time they did see each other. She couldn't help it. Even though he put up a tiny fight, she knew he wanted it. He always gave in, and then that want would become obvious. That's the only reason she didn't feel bad about her advances.

Even though she'd never admit it, she missed seeing him. Resisting the urge to come to him herself was always hard, but she knew he was avoiding her for a reason. And she guessed that it wasn't a very good one.

But now, he was on her floor, and she'd just crashed into him. Granted, he didn't seem to be there to see her, but his reaction to her crying definitely made her feel a spark of something she swallowed down. Something told her she'd be seeing him again very soon.

Surprisingly enough, through all of those tears, she smiled.

* * *

Felicity had the project done by the end of the day, her motivation to finish being driven by her hatred for Brandon. He wasn't in his office when she knocked though, so she just decided to tell him in the morning. After packing her things up, she checked her watch. It was already really late, since she'd stayed overtime to finish the assignment. Although she hated to do it, she decided to take a night off from her second job.

Gathering her things together, she approached the elevator, saying her goodbyes to the couple people who still lingered around on her floor. She pushed the button for the elevator, waiting for a few seconds before the doors parted. She stepped on, nearly jumping into the air when she felt a hand land on her shoulder. Turning around, she saw Oliver standing there, his eyes calming her rapidly beating heart.

"You scared the crap out of me," she told him, closing her eyes as she allowed herself to actually laugh. "What are you still doing here? Shouldn't you be out 'arrow-ing' right now?"

His lips twitched, as he stepped closer to her. "I had some paperwork I needed to file." She nodded her head, glancing at the elevator doors. "What about you? Why aren't you saving the world with your magical fingers?"

She raised her eyebrow at him. "Magical, huh?"

"I didn't mean it like that," he retracted, and she shrugged it off.

"I had an assignment I needed to get done. My fingers won't be working any of their magic tonight. I have a bed that needs me right away."

The elevator doors opened, and he gestured for her to leave first. She did, not looking behind her as she headed for her car, knowing he was right there the entire time. She expected him to tell her something about her decision to take a night off. It was her being at least a little bit selfish, right? It wasn't like he took breaks.

Or did he?

"Are you still going out tonight? As... you know," she said, stopping at her car to look at him.

He nodded. "Yeah, I need to let off some steam."

She thought back on how angry he'd looked earlier that day when he'd run into her in the hallway, her face streaked with tears. She wondered if that was the steam he needed to let off, and wondered even further about what that meant when it came to how he felt about her. He seemed to read her mind, because he took in a deep breath, placing a hand on her arm.

"I wanted to ask you earlier if you were okay," he began, his voice gentle. "You were crying this morning, and-"

"I'm fine," she interrupted, really not wanting to relive the whole thing. "I just... I got a little overwhelmed. Everything is better now."

He stared at her for a few more seconds, before pulling away, muttering, "Yes, it is," and starting to walk off.

She didn't ask him what he meant by that. She was sure she'd find out soon enough. All she cared about right now was getting home to her nice warm bed, and maybe even having a glass of wine. She deserved it after the day she'd had. Maybe, she'd even think of Oliver. She snorted.

As if she had a choice.

* * *

Felicity arrived to work, a smile on her face when she remembered that she got to hand over the finished project to Brandon a full day before he was expecting it from her. She could already imagine the dumbfounded look on his face as she smirked down at him. Rarely, did she get to feel confident like that at work, so when an opportunity did appear, she took advantage of it.

Her hand reached forward, knocking on the door to his office. It took a few seconds, but soon a voice was calling for her to come in. If she hadn't been so excited, she would have noticed that the voice did not belong to Brandon. So, still grinning, she came inside, stopping short when she saw a tall, slightly older man in Brandon's seat.

"Oh," she said, pausing in the middle of the doorway. "I'm sorry. I was looking for Mr. Calley."

The older man stood, straightening his suit. "Mr. Calley has been transferred to another branch. I'm Mr. Hyler. I'll be taking over as head of this department."

Felicity furrowed her brows, reminding herself to speak after a few stunned seconds. "Um, it's nice to meet you. I'm Felicity Smoak."

"Well, I look forward to working with you, Ms. Smoak," Mr. Hyler replied, giving her a polite smile. "Is there something that you needed?"

She shook her head, just needing to get out of there before she made a spectacle of herself like she always did when she was caught off guard by something. "It... It can wait. I'll let you get situated first."

"I appreciate that."

Felicity pressed her lips together, taking that as her cue to leave. She shut the door behind her, beginning to walk away from that office. She was all sorts of confused, and all she really needed right now was an explanation. So, she went up to the first person she saw, pulling them to the side. It happened to be a female who she knew always had all of the latest gossip, seeing as everyone claimed her as the source of each scandalous rumor.

"Hey, Sheri," she whispered, moving them out of they way. "Um, do you have any idea why Mr. Calley got transferred? He never mentioned wanting to move to another branch before."

"You didn't hear?" she gasped, the grin on her face proving that she was enjoying this way too much. "Mr. Queen and Brandon got into an argument yesterday about his work ethic, and then Brandon got offered either a demotion or a transfer to another branch. You know which one he took. He'd sooner die than get demoted."

Felicity felt her heart rate increase, and she needed to get this all straightened out before her brain jumped to conclusions. "Wait, so Mr. Queen fought with Brandon because he was... unethical?"

"He said he didn't appreciate the way he was treating his staff, and Brandon told him he was only doing what he thought was necessary."

Felicity murmured a thank you, leaving the conversation quickly. Her head was spinning, and all she knew was that what Oliver had done was definitely a big deal. He'd entered himself into one of her problems, handling it for her, even though she told him not to, and he told her he wouldn't. She knew she should have been mad on some level, but she wasn't in the slightest.

They'd definitely be talking the next time she saw him, and if she was lucky, then that would be tonight.

* * *

She was right.

Oliver came to her that night, dressed as the Arrow, but entered with his hood off this time. He didn't speak as he walked in, and she tried to fight off the fluttering taking place in her stomach at the sight of him. Relationships based purely on sex were not supposed to cause butterflies. That just didn't happen.

"You're here," she unnecessarily stated, just needing to break the silence between them somehow.

He shrugged setting his bow down on her table, along with his mask and gloves. "It was a slow night."

Her hands fiddled together, and she finally gave up on trying to walk around the subject she'd been dying to discuss with him ever since she'd found out about the reason Brandon had left her department. "I wanted to talk to you about something, so it's great that you showed up."

"Is it about Brandon?" he guessed, seeming completely aloof.

She nodded, getting to her feet. "Yeah, actually. I found out he got transferred today."

"He... Well, let's just say that he had an unpleasantness to him that I didn't want in my building," Oliver lamely justified.

Felicity wasn't taking that for an answer. "You knew that he'd been making my life hell. You stumbled in on him making me cry after pressuring me to get an impossible assignment done."

"He shouldn't have treated you like that," Oliver growled, his angry side coming out at the mention of her crying.

She swallowed, looking up at him. "You can't transfer every guy who makes me cry."

"I thought it was better to transfer him than to rip him to shreds," he replied, making her hate how much she _wasn't_ upset by his words. "Felicity, I don't want someone like that breathing down your neck, especially since you are doing this whole other job without anyone knowing. If he knew even _half_ of what you do-"

One moment, she was watching him speak, and the next, she was mauling him with her lips. It's funny what difference a second will make. Oliver was faster to recover this time, quickly transitioning so that he was in control, his mouth toppling over hers with expertise. Felicity moaned, thinking back on all that he'd done for her, all he'd done to make sure her life wasn't as terrible as it could be, and kissed him harder.

There was only one way she could think to show her appreciation, and the thought was not completely unwelcome. In fact, she remembered fantasizing about doing it ever since the first night they'd hooked up, and she'd gazed up at his yearning figure from her knees. She'd never wanted to do _that_ to a guy before, not like she did with him.

"Sit," she ordered, shoving him into her computer chair just like the first time.

His eyes lit up in what seemed like delight, and she figured he must have really enjoyed when she'd ridden him like that, taking control of their pleasure. Well, if he liked that, then he was definitely going to enjoy what was coming next. Oliver obeyed her command, slowly settling into her chair, his hands seeking hers, drawing her to him.

Felicity gave in for the time being, sinking into his lap, landing her lips on his. One of his hands skimmed the skin of her stomach, slipping under her blouse, and making her shiver at not only the warmth of his touch, but the remembrance that it was the first time he'd come in contact with that part of her skin with his own. She suddenly wanted to feel his touch everywhere, and if the desperate way he began to kiss her and slide his hands farther up her shirt were any indication, he did, too.

She was all too ready to let him explore her body, but she wanted to see his face when she took him in her mouth more. So, pushing lightly at his chest, she broke away from him, stilling his large hands. His eyebrows furrowed, his lips parting in a silent question. Felicity only folded her lips together, getting to her feet, and dropping to her knees.

She could tell by his face that he was expecting the same thing as the first time. He thought she was going to undo his pants, and raise herself back up to ride him into ecstasy. Well, he got the first part of that right. Only, there would be no riding for her, and he would be receiving a whole new kind of ecstasy.

Felicity cupped him through the leather, frustrated by how little she could actually feel of him. It was really tight, making her wonder why he didn't just come to her in his business clothes if he knew there was a chance of this sort of thing happening. He could always change at the warehouse, and she would bet money it would be a hell of a lot more comfortable for him.

Frustrated, she worked on releasing him, her gaze shifting to his face when she tugged him free, her touch gentle on his throbbing length. He let out a low groan, his shoulders slacking as hit head fell back. Felicity smiled to herself, happy with not only his reaction, but the fact that what was coming next would be even more of a surprise for him.

Leaning forward, she brought her lips to the head of his cock, and he immediately jerked in her hand.

"Felicity-"

"Don't stop me, Oliver," she warned, because honestly, she wasn't going to beg him to let her suck him off.

He looked defeated, and she knew he was battling with himself right now. "I don't want to stop you," he started, gritting his teeth. "I just don't want you to feel... obligated in any way."

"I'm a big girl, Oliver," she reminded him. "If I want to give you a blowjob because you did something really amazing for me, then that's my decision to make. Okay?"

He swallowed, nodding his head without another word. She almost grinned in triumph, but then remembered that she was still gripping him in her hand, and her mouth was literally only an inch or two away. Without a moment more of hesitation, she replaced her lips on him, slowly sucking him into her mouth. She could see his hands digging into her leather armrests, taking him deeper and deeper with each passing second.

He let out a strangled noise when he touched the back of her throat, and she held him there for a few seconds, soaking all of his reactions up. Pulling away, she took him completely out, waiting for his hips to settle on the chair again, before curling her tongue all along his length. He whimpered when the pad of her finger dipped into the tiny hole at the top of his cock, and she clamped her thighs together at the sound.

"Want to take off your pants?" she offered, knowing that even though his most important appendage was out, there were still two others that were flanked in the tight leather.

He shook his head, gnashing his teeth together in both agitation and impatience. "I don't care about the fucking pants. I just... Felicity, I-"

She knew what he was saying, and _God_ , did she find his unrelenting need for this hot. Silencing him, she returned her lips to him, sheathing her mouth around his throbbing erection. Slowly, she worked him, creating patterns that she switched every time she thought he was starting to decipher them. He was a mess, a literal, boneless, mess - and she _loved_ it.

Okay, that was a strong word to use.

 _Especially_ when it came to him. And yet, she'd thought it. She knew she didn't love him. Maybe she loved how he reacted to her, how easily she could convince him to give in to her demands. Maybe she loved the noises he made in the back of his throat, or the way he looked at her like she was the only freaking thing that mattered.

God dammit, she couldn't remember the last time she'd felt like she'd mattered until he came into her life. This was good, right? He was making her feel important, like no one else had succeeded in doing in years. Yeah, this was... this was... fuck, what was this?

How she managed to confuse herself over all of this and still give him the best blowjob of her existence was beyond her.

"Felicity, I- ah, oh God," he stuttered, his hips jerking upwards, warning her of his climax.

She took that as her cue to take him as far as she could, and he didn't dare even attempt to hold back another second. He came, crying out her name, shooting into her throat as she swallowed every last drop of him down. When she pulled back, he was completely blissed out, and her head was still spinning with her troubling thoughts.

She couldn't like Oliver like that. Sure, he made her feel important, but that had to be all. It just had to.

"You realize that what you did should be illegal, right?" he asked, slumped against the back of her chair.

She got to her feet, wiping a hand over her mouth and trying her best to smile at the compliment. "Thanks. Now you can go fight crime without so much weight on your shoulders."

He let out a breathy noise, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. "Well, I probably won't be heading out anymore tonight. I was thinking that maybe we could hang here for a while?"

Her heart leaped into her throat, her skin paling. What did he think this was? They didn't do this. The afterwards. They didn't linger behind to talk things out. They didn't drift around, prodding each other for useless information. Though a small part of her actually wanted to say yes, she went with her rational side, knowing that him staying behind would only complicate something that was the only good thing in her life at the moment.

"Actually, I do have a lot of work I need to get done," she said, ignoring the way the grin fell from his face.

"Oh," he murmured, fixing his pants and refusing to meet her eyes. "I see."

She sighed, turning away to give him pointless privacy. "I'm sorry."

"It's fine. It was a dumb idea anyways," he told her, standing up and getting her to face him. "We don't do that sort of thing."

She stared at him, but he didn't show any sign that he'd regretted saying it. She didn't know why she wanted him to. He'd agreed with her thought process completely. She should be happy about that, shouldn't she?

"I'll, um... I'll see you soon, Felicity," he promised, picking up his bow and other accessories, and striding straight out of there.

She sunk into the chair he'd occupied just minutes before, resisting the urge to cry. For some reason, when he said it this time, she didn't get the feeling that he really would be returning.

And that made her sad.

* * *

 **A/N: Please review!**


	4. Let Go, I'm Falling Off

**A/N: Thank you for all the reviews from the last chapter!**

* * *

 **Chapter Four**

Drinks.

It sounded like a perfectly good idea at the time. she'd been having a stressful week at work (both jobs), and alcohol always took the edge off. So, on Friday night when her best friend, Caitlin, invited her out to the club, Felicity agreed. She deserved a night off every once in a while, and it had been forever since she'd gone out. Plus, Mr. Identity Crisis hadn't stopped by to see her since she'd blown him, and that was really bumming her out.

Caitlin had picked her up at 8:00, making a big fuss over the skimpy dress Felicity had actually had the nerve to wear. Caitlin was proud of her for actually letting loose, and complained just slightly about the fact that Felicity looked way hotter than she did tonight. They'd arrived at some club in the middle of the city, immediately starting the drink flow.

Felicity met a guy there, a tall, handsome stranger who bought her a drink. Caitlin encouraged Felicity to interact with the man, and Felicity let her. The guy was cute and nice, and he had a great smile. What made it even better was the fact that he had no idea who she was. He didn't know that she spent her nights in an abandoned warehouse, stopping Starling City's big baddies with a swipe of her mouse.

He was just so normal and boring, and she _really_ needed that tonight. So, after about drink number five, she let him convince her to give her a ride home, insisting that he wouldn't try anything. She knew he would. In fact, she _hoped_ that he would. If she could prove to herself that she could actually do anything intimate with someone other than her green friend, then she could finally begin to believe that he didn't have this giant hold on her.

They didn't even make it out of the club before he was kissing her, holding her face between his hands. He had soft lips, but they were thin, and hard to respond to. She tried to give him just as much as he was her, but his hold on her face was tight, and she could barely even move her lips.

Yeah, to say it didn't feel right would be an understatement. When he finally pulled back, she gave him a forced smile, tugging on her purse.

"I've changed my mind. I think I'll stay a while longer. I need to keep an eye on my friend," she lied, glad that she was still so near to the club entrance.

His expression saddened, but he didn't get mad like she'd thought he would. "Can I get your number then?"

"You can give me yours," she offered, and he grabbed her phone from her, imputing his number, and then handing it back.

She gave him an awkward wave, watching as he got into his car, speeding off into the night. Glancing into the club, she rolled her eyes. That was the last place she wanted to be, but she knew that Caitlin was having a blast in there with the friends they'd met up with. So, Felicity decided not to disturb her fun, and to just walk home. She crossed the street, thankful for the lack of traffic.

Keeping her head down as she walked, she hummed the beat of a song she'd danced to in the club. It was catchy, and catchy songs always haunted her for days after their entrance into her mind. It wasn't until she got to the chorus that she felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up. She paused right in front of an alley, recognizing the familiar feeling in the pit of her stomach.

Just then, two hands grabbed her, pulling her into the alley. She started to scream, being quieted by the soft, reassuring voice of Oliver Queen. As her heart pounded in her chest, she raked her eyes over his barely illuminated figure. He was actually dressed as himself this time, his black suit really working for him.

 _Fuck_ , was it working for him.

She suddenly remembered how confusing this all was that he was standing there, in the middle of an alley, in the dead of night, and decided to ignore how good he looked. She could worry about that later.

"What the hell are you doing here, Oliver?" she demanded, and he eyed her with what looked a hell of a lot like anger.

"I stopped by the warehouse tonight. You weren't there."

She let out a bitter laugh, not surprised in the slightest by the way the universe seemed to despise her. "Of course, the one night you decide to show your face around there again, I go out to the club."

"Why weren't you there, Felicity?"

"I told you-"

"No," he interrupted, his eyes darkening. "I want to know why you decided to go out drinking tonight."

She bit the tip of her tongue, trying with all her might not to slap the shit out of him. "Why don't you ask me that when you _haven't_ been avoiding me for the past three weeks?"

He sighed, his eyes softening as her words sunk in. "You think I've been avoiding you."

"Yeah, because you have."

Shaking his head, he scratched the top of his eyebrow. "Felicity, do you really think I could go three weeks without seeing you?" Before she could answer, he was continuing. "I stopped by the warehouse every night. I just never came inside because... because I was confused. After our last encounter, I was left with a bunch of unanswered questions. I thought that if I worked them out myself, then I wouldn't have to ruin things between us by complicating it."

"And tonight, you decided to come inside again and talk it out?"

"No, I noticed that your car was gone," he explained. "I went to your apartment, and saw you leave with that woman. I followed you to the club and then went home to change. When I came back, I planned on going inside and finding you. Instead, I get here, only to see you making out with some guy."

His eyes flared, his fists clenching from their places by her head. He was angry. He was pissed off because she'd kissed another man. A man who wasn't him. For some reason, the fact that he'd followed her wasn't freaking her out. Not after all of the mystery that surrounded him. She felt sick, as though she really had done something worth being ashamed about. The overwhelming need to explain consumed her.

"He- He wasn't anyone," she sputtered, avoiding his intense gaze.

Oliver wasn't having any of it.

"He wanted to take you home with him, didn't he?"

The anger behind his eyes made her shrink into herself. "I didn't let him."

"But you let him kiss you," he pointed out, bringing a hand to her face, and colliding his lips with hers- _hard_. She gasped into his mouth, and he took that as his chance to sweep his tongue past her lips, exploring her with such great detail, she forgot anything else existed besides him. Relentless was the only way she could describe his kissing technique at the moment, and she just knew that her lips were swollen when he finally broke free. "You let him kiss what's mine."

Shit, she should _not_ be turned on by this. At least, not as much as she is.

"Oh, God, Oliver," she whined, not sure what was overcoming her, but just knowing she needed _more_.

His eyes read her, crushing her body into the brick wall with his own. "What do you want, Felicity? Tell me."

"I want you," she breathed, speaking her mind without thinking anything over. "I want you right now. Please... fuck me."

He clenched his jaw, and she could feel him hardening against her thigh, resisting the urge to moan. Taking her arm, he pulled her deeper into the alley, letting the shadows of the night swallow them whole. As he pressed her back into the wall, she closed her eyes, her body reacting strongly to his. She tried to capture his lips, but he pulled back, his eyes glinting at her through the darkness.

"Oliver... please," she begged, throbbing for him like she never had for another human being before.

His hand went up her dress, his fingers easily looping through her panties, undoubtedly finding them soaked through. He actually let out a groan - though stifled - and cursed something against her ear as he ground into her thigh.

"I want to hear you tell me," he panted, his words coming out very slow, very deliberate, as his fingers stroked against her, "that you're mine."

Okay, that was pushing it a little. Last time she checked, she didn't belong to anyone. He could feel as possessive of her as he wanted, but the moment she acknowledged it was the moment he thought she approved of it. The only way she was going to admit that she was his, was if he admitted to being hers just as much. They could belong to each other.

Felicity froze, rewinding her thoughts. What was going on? She thought she didn't care about him in more than a _'he gives the best orgasms ever'_ kind of way. Now, she was thinking of calling him her own, of _belonging_ to him. Now, she was thinking of him in a way that meant more than fuck acquaintances, and honestly, that scared the shit out of her.

It was the alcohol. It had to be. In her right mind, she would never be thinking things like that. He would never get to her when she was sober.

"Felicity," he murmured, bringing her back to the alley, where he was huddled over her, using her thigh to get himself off while his fingers penetrated her in a way that normally made her toes curl.

"I'm not going to say it," she whispered, and though she could hardly see an inch in front of her, she could have sworn she saw his eyes glaze over in pain. "I don't belong to you, Oliver."

"Clearly," he muttered, almost bitterly. "That'd be the last thing you'd want."

She thought he was going to walk away, but instead, he ripped her panties off, kneeing her thighs apart. Reaching down, he unzipped his slacks, giving himself a few strokes for good measure. She held her breath as he did all this, wondering how he would have responded had she told him that she was his. Maybe, he'd be less emotionless.

Suddenly, without any warning whatsoever, he thrust up into her, easily entering her in one swing due to how wet she was. She cried out, wrapping her arms around him and digging her teeth into his shoulder. His chest heaved against hers, not making another move as she let her body adjust to the intrusion.

"You good?" he gruffly asked, his hands freezing on her thighs.

"Yeah," she squeaked, and he nodded to show he'd heard her, starting to move inside of her.

His pace was punishing, his hips thrusting into hers so roughly, she felt it in her bones. He pawed at her, doing anything to get that pleasure from her that she knew he craved. Though her mind wasn't in it, her body sure was. She couldn't help the cries of pleasure that ripped through her after each agonizingly pleasureful orgasm, but he just would _not_ stop. His teeth nipped at her neck and upper chest the entire time, leaving behind marks that felt all too purposeful.

"How many times?" he wondered aloud, and she barely had the sense to understand what he was asking.

"Three," she answered, feeling a fourth orgasm start to build up. "I don't... Oliver, I don't think I can take another one."

He grit his teeth, continuing to enter her in swift strides. "I'm close."

Good.

She clenched around him, knowing it would help him get there faster. It worked, if his hiss of pleasure was any indication. So, she did it again, and this time, his head fell into the crook of her neck. Then, he was latching onto her, making her tense up as he got her as close as humanely possible, emptying himself into her. She moaned at the feeling, whimpering against his cheek.

They didn't speak for awhile, letting the sounds of their heavy breathing fill the silence. Then, he pulled out of her, taking a few steps back as he readjusted his outfit. Felicity did the same, smoothing out her dress and combing through her messy hair. He didn't meet her eyes again, making her feel really worthless in a way she'd never felt after an encounter with him.

"You need a ride?" he eventually spoke, his voice hard.

She gazed down, knowing that she did. "Um, I wouldn't want to-"

"You're not," he interrupted, his eyes flicking to hers for the first time in a while. "I'm offering. Your ride seems to still be partying, and if you think I'm about to let you walk home alone, then you don't know me very well, Felicity."

She could have made a comment about how she really _didn't_ know him all that well. She could have reminded him that he was the one who kept himself from her most of the time, choosing to only let her see his vigilante side. She thought better of it though, because something told her that despite how secluded he was, she knew him better than most people did.

"Thank you," she mumbled, taking the first few steps back into the real world, and out of that alley.

He followed her lead, his hands in his pockets as he came up to walk by her side. "No problem."

They walked in silence until they reached his car, where he drove them to her apartment complex with only quiet questions of directions. Then, she panicked over what to say, because he was getting out of the car after her, and running upstairs and into the safety of her home was totally unacceptable when he'd gone so far out of his way to make sure she got there safely.

"Well, this is me," she lamely remarked, cringing even at her own words.

"Yeah," he murmured, shifting uncomfortably. "Felicity, about what happened in the alley-"

"It's fine. It was all... fine." She turned around before anymore nonsense came out of her mouth, shouting a goodbye over her shoulder so that she wouldn't have to see the predictably pitiable look on his face.

When she got inside her apartment, she cleaned herself up, showering in scorching hot water to wash off the ickiness she felt. She couldn't believe what she'd done tonight, what she'd let _him_ do. She'd gotten fucked in an alley where people probably threw up in after one too many drinks from the club right across the street. Felicity could still feel the way the cold bricks had pressed into her spine.

And all because she couldn't admit that she had feelings for Oliver, like she knew she did.

* * *

 **A/N: They're still being stubborn, but it can't go on forever. Review please! :)**


	5. I Just Need a Little of It

**A/N: Okay, I lied. This story will actually be seven parts. I added a chapter that I felt was needed to show the growth between Oliver and Felicity's feelings (but mostly Felicity). Thanks for the continued support for this story!**

* * *

 **Chapter Five**

She didn't want to see him after that. Like, not even a little bit. She knew that if she did, it would lead to sex, which would lead to denial, which would lead to shame. And Felicity preferred to not feel either of those things. So, in order to avoid him coming into her Hacktivist hideaway, Felicity set up a security system so intricate, so difficult to break through, that it would take only herself to undo it.

It had been a week since the alley incident, and though her mind and body ached for him, her willpower outweighed it all. She knew he'd come by the warehouse at least a couple times, since her cameras had spotted him. And he'd either learned where they were placed so that he could avoid them, or he'd stopped showing up altogether.

She didn't know which one she wanted it to be.

"Hey, Felicity?" a voice asked, and she looked up from her computer to see a woman from her department standing in her office doorway, a single paper in her hand.

"Yes?"

The woman - who Felicity remembered was named Betty - stepped further into the room at being recognized, a nervous look on her face. "Um, I was supposed to have ten copies of this printed out and handed to Mr. Hyler by lunch, but I have an emergency I need to take care of. Would you mind doing it for me?"

Felicity stood up, accepting the paper from her and thinking back on all the favors she'd asked for before. "Of course I can. Don't even worry about it."

"Thank you so much," Betty gushed, leaving the room in a rush to go handle her emergency.

Felicity looked at her clock, seeing that she only had an hour until Mr. Hyler was expecting the copies. She stood from her desk, heading over to the copy room, which was on a completely different floor. After a quick ride in the elevator, she was passing by the staff break room, right before turning into the copy room. No one was in there for once, making her task a whole lot easier.

The machine was just printing out the last copy, when she heard the door close. Glancing behind her, she saw that she was no longer alone in the small room, but was now accompanied by none other than Oliver Queen. It became clear that Mr. Hyler wasn't really expecting these copies, and Betty had been doing a favor for the desperate man in front of her.

So much for trying to stay away.

"What are doing here?" she asked, mentally patting herself on the back for not reacting to his presence like she wanted to.

He stepped closer to her, and she didn't miss the way he locked the door before doing it. "You've been avoiding me."

"I have," she confirmed, not seeing the sense in denying it. "I don't want to see you."

He let out a frustrated huff, clearly restraining himself. "Look, I know that what happened in the alley was a little crazy, but I didn't think it would make you hate me. If I had known that, then-"

"I don't hate you." She crossed her arms, looking down. "I just didn't feel like dealing with it all."

Oliver nodded, getting even closer to her. "Well, whether you hate me or not, I still feel really bad about the whole thing. It wasn't my place to say those things to you, and if you never want to see me again after this, then I completely understand." His voice dropped as he forced her to meet his eyes, sending chills down her spine as he murmured, "Just let me show you how sorry I am first."

Her entire skin paled over, and she had to swallow a few times just to get any noise at all to come out. "How?"

"By doing something to you that I've wanted to do ever since I met you," he told her, and she was suddenly hoisted up onto the table, with him stepping between her legs, his voice _so_ low as he whispered, "Something that I think you'll like very much."

She closed her eyes, balling her fists to prevent herself from touching him like she was aching to do. "And what if I don't want you to?"

He slipped his hand around her thigh and into her panties, making her head fall into his shoulder. "Oh, something is telling me that you do."

Then, he was on his knees, and his hands were tugging at her ankles, bringing her to the very edge of the table. His fingers unzipped her skirt at the little zipper on the side, revealing her lower half to his hungry eyes. Her panties were next to come off, right before he buried his face between her legs, heeding no warning to her whatsoever.

She cried out, taking his hair in her fist and tugging. There was no way he could be that good at this. Felicity was already losing feeling in her legs, as his tongue did things to her she couldn't even comprehend. It felt like heaven and hell all at once, and all she knew was that she didn't want him to ever stop. She thought she told him as much, but then again, her voice was having a little trouble coming out.

"Your taste is intoxicating," he growled out, digging his fingers into her ass, bringing her closer to his face.

She let out a low whine, making the noise into her hands to try and muffle herself. Something was telling her it was pointless. Oliver probably paid off a security guard to keep anyone but them from coming onto that floor. She wouldn't put it past him.

Oliver suddenly got to his feet, looking down at her with darkened eyes and a chin slick with her juices. She felt her lips part, the sight turning her on in a way she would have never thought possible. Time seemed to still as she wondered what he was going to do next, until he finally got sick of waiting, using both hands to push her onto her back.

"What...?" she tried asking, but it was useless.

Quickly, he grabbed her legs, making sure she fit comfortably on the wooden tabletop. He was on his knees again before she could blink, throwing her legs over his shoulders as he re-positioned his tongue at her swollen entrance. If she thought he was hitting all the right spots before, then she had no idea. His tongue suddenly did something new, something so incredible, she was sure it was humanly impossible for anyone else to try and reenact it.

Then, he did it again.

"Holy... fuck, Oliver... what are you... oh my God," she moaned, thrashing her head to fight off the agonizing pleasure.

"You like that?" he asked, breaking away from her with the beginnings of a smirk dancing on his lips.

She nodded, arching her lower half upwards on instinct, just _needing_ him to continue. "God, yes. Please... do it again."

"Gladly," he responded, his voice gruff as he lowered his head, repeating the same move that knocked the wind out of her.

Her entire body reacted to him, feeling him in every square inch of her skin. She didn't bother with trying to keep her moans to a minimum this time, screaming out loud as he wickedly took her apart. Using his thumbs, he spread her for himself, getting deeper into her, and oh God, this wasn't going to last very long, was it?

As his tongue swirled against her, she got that tingling feeling in the base of her spine, the one that told her she was about to come so hard, she'd see stars. She only ever got the feeling with him, and she didn't know if that was because everyone else sucked, or he was just exceedingly better than the rest of them. Maybe it was a little of both.

"Oliver, I'm... I'm gonna," she sputtered, clenching her eyes shut as words became meaningless to her.

It seemed that at hearing her confirmation at how close she was, Oliver kicked it up a notch, doing even _more_ glorious things to her. Felicity gave in to her orgasm, letting it overtake her, knowing Oliver had her. His mouth continued on, finishing her off as she rode out her incredible high. She did see stars, and she saw fireworks, too. Her head was actually pounding from the intensity of it, her chest heaving from behind her blouse.

"Fuck," she panted, one hand over her eyes.

Oliver finally separated himself from her, pulling her panties back up her legs, and re-zipping her skirt. She was immobile for minutes, but he waited for her, remaining quiet until she could finally think again. She sat up, sliding down from the table, and straightening out her skirt. Her eyes flicked up to him, just in time to catch the way he used the back of his tie to wipe her arousal from his mouth.

That shouldn't have been as hot as it was.

"Well, that was one hell of a goodbye," she said with a weak laugh, hoping humor would get her past the now awkward tension between them.

He stepped closer to her, his eyes transfixed on hers. "Felicity, it doesn't have to be a goodbye if you don't want it to be," he told her, a muscle in his jaw ticking. "I wouldn't-" He exhaled, glancing up. "I wouldn't mind seeing you again."

Her heart pounded harder than when his face had been between her legs. "This relationship isn't healthy. All we do is have sex, and maybe that was what I needed for a while, but now... I just don't see a point in extended the inevitable."

He didn't say anything for several beats. Then, he plastered on that fake smile she'd learned to detect after viewing it one too many times, nodding his head up and down in agreement. "You're right," he replied, his words curt.

Moving past her, he left her no room for a response back. He held the door open for her, letting her step through it, before closing it behind him. Just as she'd thought, there was one of his security guards standing at the entrance to the elevator, giving Oliver a nod of recognition, before starting down the hall. Oliver turned on his heels to face Felicity, his expression closed off.

"I guess I'll see you around," he breathed, looking down at her, and even though he wasn't dressed as the Arrow, his mask was set in place.

Felicity nodded, feeling her eyes start to burn, because really, that was all it came down to. If he could just be around her without a mask, without a costume, then maybe it could work. If he could let her in, showing himself to her completely and without any restrictions, then... Then maybe, they'd be able to extend their relationship past the brutal, desperate, _'you-help-me-escape-reality'_ fucking, and become something so much more.

But no, he liked to hide.

"Yeah," she whispered, tucking her lips in. "I'll see you around."

* * *

 **A/N: Next chapter is where Felicity kind of internally accepts her relationship with Oliver for what it really is. Review please! :)**


	6. Need a Little, Not a Lot, to Get Into It

**A/N: Thank you for the reviews from the last chapter!**

* * *

 **Chapter Six**

She'd almost gotten killed today.

It had been her fault. She was the one who'd been walking through the Glades by herself at night. She'd only been there because she was in need of a pint of mint chip, and the gas station around the corner was the closest thing to her warehouse. Along the way, a man had come out of the shadows, a pocket knife in his hand. He'd spoken in vulgar sentences, approaching her with wobbly steps.

If it hadn't been for his drunken state, she might not have been able to break out of the hold he'd locked her in. But once she got free, managing to run away with nothing more than some bruising, she was long gone. He didn't chase after her, yet her heart pounded in her chest, the feel of the knife against her throat still remaining.

It didn't matter that she was in the warehouse now, where it would take a super genius to break in. It didn't matter that she had a gun in her desk drawer ready to be fired at the first sign of danger. It didn't even matter that the guy had no idea where she ran off to, and the chances of her ever seeing him again where practically non-existent.

Her heart hammered away, and the only thought - the only _person_ \- running through her mind was Oliver. She just knew, as her pulse raced and her breathing refused to slow down, that she wasn't going to feel safe until she saw him. He was the only person that was going to get her to calm down, and that made things extremely difficult since they'd practically agreed to never see each other again the last time they'd spoken.

Felicity closed her eyes, realizing that in that moment, she needed him. Fuck.

She paced over to where her cell phone was sitting on her desk, picking it up and dialing Oliver's number. She didn't give herself time to back out of it, knowing that if she'd even considered it another second, she wouldn't have done it. He picked up on the first ring, his voice sounding almost... desperate. Hopeful, maybe?

"Felicity?" he breathed, his modulator still on.

She closed her eyes, ignoring the rage in her chest at that. "Oliver, can you-" She cleared her throat, finding that her words were getting stuck. "Can you, um, come to the warehouse? Please."

"What happened? Are you okay?" he demanded, probably sensing the distress in her tone.

She sniffled involuntarily, and felt the energy shift from over the phone. "I'm fine. Something just happened tonight, and-"

 _I need you._

"And what, Felicity?" he prompted, the roar from his motorcycle telling her that he was speeding up in his journey to get to her.

She inhaled, steadying herself. "And I just would like for you to be here."

"Two minutes," he bit out, disconnecting the line.

She set her phone down, putting her hands to her face. She was starting to feel really stupid for calling him, because she knew that if she'd just waited a few more minutes, she would have felt better. Why was it that she needed him to help? She could have handled it on her own.

She went back and forth with herself about whether calling him had been the right thing to do, until there was a pounding on her warehouse door. She immediately raced to her computers, typing quickly to unlock the security system, watching as Oliver entered through the cameras near her monitor. Turning around, she watched as he came into the room, spotting her and wasting no time in cutting the space between them to shreds.

He brought himself against her, and she could see the worry in his eyes through his mask. "What happened tonight?"

"I went to get some mint chip from the gas station around the block, and a guy came out," she started, but he was already pulling away, his fists clenched.

"What did he look like?" he growled, murder in his eyes.

She shook her head, going over to him. "Don't. I didn't call you over here for that. I don't want you to hunt him down. I called you here because I was scared, and I guess I... I guess I just needed to see you."

His eyes softened, and he wrapped one hand around her waist. "Were you hurt?"

Soundlessly, she raised her arms, showing him the bruises that were starting to form on her wrists from where the man had grabbed her in his hold against him. Oliver's eyes lit with a rage that made her shiver, and he took her wrists in his hands one at a time, staring down at the marks. Very slowly, he brought her right wrist to his lips, skimming them over the dark marks. Her breath caught.

"I should kill that guy for what he did to you," he said, flicking his voice modulator off, making his words mean more to her. "I should go out there, track him down, and break his arms off."

"Let me call the police. They'll handle it," she offered, knowing that he didn't kill anymore, and not wanting him to break that rule for her.

He gave a weak nod, letting her go, and watching her the entire time she made the call. When she'd reported the man, she turned back around, finding him nearly against her, his gaze intense.

"Why did you call me, Felicity? Why was I the first person you thought of?"

His words were soft, as though he genuinely cared about what her answer was. She swallowed. "I don't know. Maybe you make me feel safe," she whispered, being honest with him. "Maybe it was because I knew you'd come." She paused. "Maybe it was a little of both."

Nodding, his eyes darkened. "Have you missed me?"

Her skin paled, her throat drying up. He watched her, intent on getting an answer. She didn't know what to say. If she told him the truth, that she'd missed him like crazy, then it could scare him away. If she told him she'd been doing fine without him, he could take that as his cue to leave. Either way, she lost. So really, what did he want?

"Oliver..."

"You don't have to answer that," he decided, pulling back.

She didn't give him the opportunity to go very far, because she was suddenly on his lips, emptying out all of her fear and filling it with the passion being near him created. Oliver moaned, holding her face in his hands, and keeping her to him like he tended to do. There was a small couch she kept near the back, for when she had rough days, and she guided him over there, never letting him go. .

She was confused as she pushed him down, straddling him and rocking her hips against his. That lust she felt for him didn't seem to be the only emotion there at the moment. It wasn't that she just wanted him right now.

It was that she _needed_ him.

The thought made her gasp, and he sat up as best he could, looking at her in a panic.

"What is it? What's wrong?" he asked, scanning her over.

She acted fast, pressing her lips to his, thrusting her tongue into his mouth, making him groan deep in his throat, and shoving him back down. Her hands laid flat on his chest, curling over his shoulders as her hips rolled over his leather-clad erection. His hands dug into the patch of skin at her waist where her shirt had ridden up. He always left little bruises there, but those were more than welcomed by her.

His mouth left hers as she tried to get his pants down, and when she finally succeeded and was back at his face, he buried his head into her neck, sucking a trail of kisses all the way down until he'd have to get her shirt off to place any more. She moaned the entire time, twisting her neck to get him closer to her, loving the way his stubble rasped over her skin, leaving so much evidence of him behind.

"These are the only marks you should ever have on your body," he breathed, his voice so deep, she almost thought he'd switched the modulator back on.

Fuck, she couldn't take this anymore.

Pushing her panties to the side, she positioned herself on top of him, sliding him home. He let out a choked noise, clutching her to him, becoming just as overwhelmed by the pleasure as she was. Felicity's lips were parted, her eyelids fluttering as her body adjusted to him. He filled her so perfectly, it was almost enough to make her come right then and there.

He settled her even deeper onto him using his hands on her hips, and she pressed her palms into her chest, knowing that she needed to be moving. Sitting still was just torture for the both of them, so she quickly quit doing that, and began riding him.

It was different on the couch than it had been in her computer chair. She had more space, and he was more willing. He actually guided her along him, requesting small things from her that drove her just as insane. His thrusts were more purposeful, and his hands were just _everywhere_. Though no clothing was removed from her body, she could feel his touch searing into her skin wherever his hands rested.

"Fuck, I need... I need..." she sputtered, her brain on the fritz with the angle she was coming down at.

Oliver sat up a little, making her tense as an extreme bolt of pleasure shot through her at the sensation, because as he'd made that little move, he'd refrained from stopping his thrusts. With his hands on her waist, he brought her down faster, both of their eyes falling shut.

"What do you need?" he asked, and she just _knew_ that he'd give her whatever she wanted.

Her head fell back, her entire body sizzling from the intense pleasure he was giving her. "I just- I need - fuck... Oliver, I need-"

She wasn't making any sense, yet he understood her perfectly. Gently, he slowed down, rolling his hips into hers so that she felt every single move from deep within her. Then, when she was least expecting it, he flipped their positions, pounding into her with a new found energy. Her voice refused to work, her eyes clenching shut from the strong pleasure that was completely foreign to her existence.

She was done for, even she knew as much. It was all just... _too good_. _He_ was too good. He was the only one to ever get her to this state, this state where her body went numb and her entire mindset throbbed with thoughts of him, and him only. Arching her back, she gave into the overwhelming pleasure, grabbing onto him as she came.

Oliver groaned at the feeling of her convulsing around him, burying his head into her neck, and quickly joining her. He jerked upwards a few more times, before coming to a stop, his breathing labored. As his head raised, he looked at her, his eyes soft. She swallowed, using her hand to cup his face, not knowing why she was doing this, but not stopping herself.

"It worked," she whispered, making his eyes glint with curiosity.

"What did?" he asked, his gaze flickering back and forth between her eyes and her lips.

She smiled just slightly, her voice still a low murmur as she said, "I feel safe again."

And that feeling lingered long after he composed himself, leaving her warehouse to continue on with his quest for that night. It lingered well past him walking her to her car, and even through her drive home, where she collapsed into a tired heap on her bed. She went to sleep feeling safe because even though he hadn't said he'd be back, and even though she knew that nothing had really changed, she knew that the moment she needed him, he'd be there.

* * *

 **A/N: Next chapter is the final one! Review please! :)**


	7. Keep Calling Me Home

**A/N: This is the final part to this short story! I included the epilogue in it, just because it isn't that long. Thank you to everyone who read/reviewed/showed any sort of support for this story.**

* * *

 **Chapter Seven**

Felicity struggled to get used to not seeing him anymore. As temporary as his presence had been in her life, he'd sure left a lot behind. She'd thought of him every moment since that time on her couch - the time that felt more than just sex - secretly hoping she'd run into him at the office, or that he'd stumble into her lair. She'd actually taken down her security system, wanting to make his return to her as simple as possible.

But he never came.

Yeah, it was hard at first. Felicity couldn't help but get her hopes up every time her office door opened, or there was a loud noise outside her warehouse. Once she realized it was never going to be him again, it got a little easier. Her brain started to accept it.

A whole month had gone by, and the most she'd seen of him had been in the articles he occasionally popped up in that raved about his success with the company. She was proud of him. Wanting to congratulate him every once in awhile was something she had to fight off, because she was constantly seeking an opportunity to speak with him again.

Caitlin got tired of her moping around, assuming she was in need of a good lay since Felicity had never told her about whatever she'd had with Oliver. Felicity decided that getting back on the horse was the healthy thing to do. That's what led to her calling the guy she'd met at the club the night Oliver had ravished her in the alley, since his number was still in her phone.

His name was Brad, and he remembered her very clearly. Getting him to agree to a date was a little too easy, and Felicity thought he may have been as desperate for something new as she was. They went out to dinner, actually having a semi-decent time together. Felicity now stood at her door, facing him while he bounced up and down on the soles of his feet.

"I had a great time tonight," she started, not really knowing where to go from here.

Brad nodded. "Yeah, so did I. I'm glad you called me, Felicity."

Then he was leaning in, and his lips were against hers. Her stomach clenched, almost as if her body was physically rejecting his kiss. She forced her eyes closed, attempting to find even the tiniest shred of satisfaction in his kiss. He pulled back not too long after, letting out an awkward chuckle.

"Um, that wasn't right, was it?"

Felicity sighed, placing a hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry, Brad. It's just-"

"No, don't be. If it doesn't work, it doesn't work." He stepped back slowly, clearly just wanting to get the hell out of there, and maybe even a little pissed off. "Goodbye, Felicity. You take care."

She watched as he made his way down her hallway, and out of the building. Feeling utterly confused and exhausted, she collapsed against her door, just lingering out in the hallway. It wasn't until she decided she could mope around just fine from the safety of her home that she finally went inside, and when she did, the sight in front of her nearly gave her a heart attack.

Standing in her living room was Oliver Queen, wearing a pair of jeans and a grey cotton shirt.

Her mouth watered.

"Wait," she blurted, covering her eyes with a hand. "He's not really here. You've just had too much to drink, Felicity. Your date just dumped you because you clearly still aren't over Oliver, and now you're hallucinating him standing in your living room."

"Felicity," he began, and it sounded _so_ _real_.

"God, I missed your voice," she breathed, shaking her head at how realistic this really was. "Okay, maybe I just need to lie down. Yeah, that should work."

Oliver was suddenly right in front of her, his hand landing on her wrist, proving to her that he really was there. She blinked up at him, shocked. Her face turned crimson as she thought back on what she'd said. _Oh crap_! She'd admitted to having feelings for him.

"I can assure you, I am very real," he murmured, and she swallowed as she looked up at him.

Thankfully, her brain was thinking logically. "If you're real, then how did you get into my apartment? I live on the second floor of a fairly nice apartment complex. There's no way you could have gotten in here unless you broke the lock, and I just used it to get in, so..."

"I came in through your bedroom window," he explained, towering over her, and reminding her of all the things he could do. "It wasn't as hard as you think. Next time, you should lock it."

"Okay, so you really are here," she accepted, stepping away from him to avoid having a breakdown. "You haven't stopped by to see me in a month, but now you're here, in my apartment, and you came in through my bedroom window, which I apparently need a bolt for."

"What are you doing?" he asked, turning around to face her.

She shrugged, her eyes vacant as she stared off into the distance. "Oh, you know. Just hoping that if I say it out loud, it won't sound as crazy as it does in my head."

"Felicity, I need to talk to you."

"Of course you do."

He exhaled, eating up the space between them again. "I'm serious. I know I've been gone for a long time-"

"Five weeks," she interrupted, blinking quickly. "You've been gone for five weeks, Oliver."

"And you don't think that I wanted to see you? You don't think that you weren't on my mind every second of every day? You don't think that I thought about going to you, and just _being_ _there_ with you, all the time?"

"Then why didn't you?!" she yelled, not even bothering to stop the tears.

He looked taken aback, and for minutes, no one said another word. They just stood nearly against each other, their chests heaving from their argument, her face streaked with tears, and his eyes dark with pain. Then, he took a deep breath, speaking to her in a low, even tone.

"From the moment I met you, I knew you were going to matter to me. Do you know how difficult it is for me to care about people? After the island... Felicity, I haven't let someone in, in a really long time. Talking to you, being with you, it made me forget. It made me forget about all those nights I spent, wishing I was home. It made me forget about the times where I went days without eating, and went to sleep, praying that I'd make it through the night. You made me forget about how dark of a place the world is."

"I guess I used you, in a way. You were the light at the end of a very dark tunnel for me, and I took advantage of that, of the way you make me feel. I know it was wrong of me, but after spending so much time drowning, it was nice to come up for air every once in a while." He ran a hand over the back of his neck, beginning to pace. "I know I hide myself from you, but that's only because I know that if I let you in, if I give you all of me - because I am an all-or-nothing kind of deal - then I'd be handing you over the power to destroy me."

"You don't get it, do you?" she questioned, swallowing back her sobs. "I already gave myself over to you. You have me, and you have the ability to destroy me as well. As a matter of fact, you avoiding me for weeks at a time _does_ destroy me."

He took her hands in his, bringing himself to her. "Don't tell me that."

She sighed. "Oliver..."

"That was never my intention. I never wanted to hurt you, Felicity. _Never_."

"Then tell me," she demanded. "Tell me that you're never going to leave me again. Tell me that you'll never go weeks without speaking to me again. God, Oliver, at the very least, just please let me _in_."

"Okay," he easily agreed, pulling her to his chest, nearly suffocating her, but she didn't even notice. "Okay, Felicity, I'll do it. No more hiding. I'll let you in, I'll give myself over to you, I'll give you everything. Just please..."

Their lips met, hot and desperate, an explosion of every emotion and feeling that had ever existed between them. She felt the aggression he held towards anyone who hurt her. She felt the jealousy that coursed through him whenever another man touched her. She felt the warmth he lit with when they were together, and the hope he held when he looked at her.

Oliver wrapped himself around her, burrowing her in, surrounding himself in her, and only her. She felt so safe in that moment, as though nothing in the world could touch her as long as he was kissing her that deeply.

She felt fucking invincible.

"I love you," he said, pressing his forehead against hers as he gulped air shallowly. "God, I love you so much. I've loved you since the moment I saw you. You had me before you even knew who I was."

"I've always known who you are," she responded, chuckling. "You're Oliver Queen. You can't live in this city and not know who you are."

He grinned, cupping her face, and just breathing her in. "I'm ready to tell you, Felicity. I'm ready to let you in. We can... let's talk."

She shook her head, threading her fingers through his hair. "No, not now. We can talk after. We have to... Oliver, I need you. It's been a mon-"

"Five weeks," he cut off, just like how she'd done with him. "Felicity, its been five weeks since I've seen you. _Five weeks_ since I've been with you."

"So, we're on the same page then?"

He nodded. "Yes, sex now, talking later."

She giggled, shrieking when he lifted her into his arms, easily holding her weight as he guided them into her bedroom. She almost asked how he knew his way around her apartment so well, but then she remembered how he'd admitted to breaking in through her bedroom window not too long ago. That cleared that question away.

Oliver set her down onto her mattress, and she pushed herself towards the head of the bed with her hands, eyes locked with his the entire time. He stared at her, his gaze darkening to the point where she could hardly tell his eyes were naturally blue. Shivering from just the intensity of _him_ , she watched as he crawled up the bed to meet her, bringing his lips down to hers.

They kissed for a while, truly appreciating how good they were at it like they never had before. The things he could do with his mouth on hers was insane, and she could tell he was thinking the same about her by the way he groaned into her lips, pressing himself against her just a little harder. She slid her hands along his chest, feeling the sharpness of his muscles, craving to have herself wrapped around him.

"Mmm, you know what's hot?" she breathed, and he moved his lips to her neck, making her squirm as her hands flattened out onto his upper back.

"What?" he asked, his hands gliding along her sides.

She smiled. "Your shirt," she answered, thinking back on how - despite how hot he looked in his leather - the sight of him dressed as the Arrow always made her mad, making her believe that he was hiding himself from her. So him not wearing anything but what would make him Oliver Queen was pretty damn hot to her.

"My shirt?" he repeated, chuckling despite his confusion.

"Yeah," she hummed, grinning now as she slid her hands over his pants, giving his ass a squeeze. "And these pants are hot, too."

"Are you trying to tell me you don't want me to get undressed?"

She laughed, shaking her head. "No, it's just that... I like seeing the real you. Don't get me wrong, the Arrow was hot. But Oliver Queen... now that's something I can fantasize about."

"Yeah?" he whispered against her lips, sliding his hands up her shirt.

She arched into his touch, his skin warm against hers. "Yeah."

The kissing was nice - like, _really nice_ \- but she needed more. They both did. And so she began lifting his shirt up, and he took care of the rest, breaking their kiss momentarily to pull his shirt off his shoulders. She gazed down at him, seeing the way his upper body was constructed for the first time. The grainy images she'd seen online didn't count.

Holy shit, was this man built.

She stared at her own hands as they traced over each and every ridge and indent, catching the ticks in his muscles. His thumb stroked across her bottom lip, drawing her eyes back to his as he smirked down at her, his other hand grasping her zipper. With silent permission, he freed her from her dress, and she tossed it to the ground, much like he did with his shirt.

With what they were doing, clothes were their lowest priority.

His eyes stared down at her, viewing the most amount of skin he'd ever seen from her all at once, and she could see his jaw clenching. Her breath caught, and she felt every little touch as he dragged his fingertips over her skin, drawing goosebumps from her.

"You're fucking beautiful," he whispered, closing his eyes as he shook his head. "Fuck, why did it take me so long to tell you I want you like this?"

"Like what?" she murmured, reaching behind her to unclasp her bra.

He opened his eyes, grounding his lower half into hers when he saw her slip her arms through the scrap of fabric, revealing her breasts to him. "I want you in every way imaginable, Felicity. Mentally, emotionally, spiritually," he listed, bringing his lips to her left breast and gritting out, "sexually," before wrapping his lips around her nipple, making her cry out.

Arching up into him, she let him have all of her, trusting him more and more the longer he stimulated her. He worked each breast equally, worshiping her body in a way no other ever had. He made her feel special, like he always did, but this time it was different. This time, it was more than all the others. It was everything.

He kissed his way back up to her lips, and she looped her fingers through the waistline of his pants, quickly popping the button open and bringing down the zipper. Using her feet, she curled her legs around his hips, pushing his pants down as far as she could. He stood up, kicking them off, and taking his place above her again. She could feel him more now, pressing persistently into her thigh.

"You're so hard," she moaned, grinding into him.

He hissed, rubbing into her, biting down softly on her shoulder. "You're the only person I've ever wanted this much. You are the only person who can make me this way, who can get me this... hard."

"Here," she said, when he sounded a little overwhelmed, guiding his hand into her panties.

He could feel how wet she was, the way that she got only for him. Letting out a series of curses, he brushed his fingers against her, pulling back to read each and every reaction on her face. Slipping one finger inside of her, he gauged her reaction, gently stroking her before adding in another. It was the third one that did it, really. Well, that, and the combination of his thumb circling her clit, swirling in a pattern that could basically be named 'The Quickest Route to Getting Felicity Smoak to Orgasm'.

He held her close as she came, removing her panties as she caught her breath, along with his boxers. They were both completely nude now, like they had never been with each other before. They both just stared for a while, wanting to memorize each and every curve, ridge, dip, and edge. His fingers were still wet with her release when his hand brushed over her hip, and the cold air that swept over it made her tighten her arms around him.

"You cold?" he asked, sounding genuinely concerned.

Her lips quirked up, and she nodded. "Just a little bit."

Then he did something so sweet, she would remember it for years to come. He lifted her into his arms, holding her securely against his chest, and used only one hand to pull her comforter and sheets down, lowering her back onto the bed. He got in after her, reaching behind him to toss the blankets over their bodies. Instantly, she felt warmer.

And it was not just because of the way he had settled that made it _so much easier_ to feel him between her thighs.

"Better?" he murmured, his eyes boring down into hers.

She gave a small nod. "So much."

"Good."

The rest of the night proceeded in a blur. Oliver touched her, and she touched him. He entered her, and they both kind of stared at each other in amazement, because it suddenly felt like their first time together. And when he thrust into her, it wasn't fast, or needy. It was slow, thoughtful, provoking. Felicity felt him down to her bones, and as her nails scraped down his neck and over his shoulders, she knew he could feel her just as deep.

When they came, it was loud and soft and everything all at once. Oliver refused to let Felicity go for several moments afterwards, burying his face into her neck, and just reveling in the comfort of her. Felicity didn't mind him there in the slightest. In fact, she wished he would stay there forever.

She fell asleep in his arms, where she would soon discover that of all the places in the world, that one would make her feel the safest. She woke up to him the next morning, and fell asleep in his arms again the next night. And the pattern only continued, with her seeing him at work and at her second job, before a big change was made between the two of them.

Actually, it was three of them.

* * *

Epilogue

Felicity punched in the code to her warehouse, hearing the door shut behind her. As she made her way to her computers, she checked her phone, looking for any important messages. Suddenly, two strong arms wrapped around her from behind, and she turned around swiftly, smiling up at her boyfriend.

"Hey," he greeted, leaning down to peck her lips.

"Hey back at you," she said, twining her arms around his neck. "You know, I missed you at work today."

He raised an eyebrow at her. "Did you now?"

She nodded, brushing her lips up against his, melting into him completely. "But that only meant I had plenty of time to think about what I would do when I did see you again."

"Oh yeah? And what's that?"

Smiling, she pulled away, biting her lip teasingly at him. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

"With every fucking inch of myself," he agreed, his voice that deep, growly level that made her knees weak.

She didn't trust herself to speak, and so she didn't, taking his hand in her own and leading him over to where her computers were. He helped her onto the surface of the table, keeping his hands on her hips. She linked her arms around his neck, continuing to kiss him, slowly starting to roll her hips against his. He cursed out, kissing her harder, taking control of her mouth.

His hands slid up her shirt, stroking over the soft skin there. Felicity led her fingers to his zipper, tugging it down, more than ready to just have him already like she'd wanted to all day inside that damn office. It didn't matter how many times they'd had sex. She still wanted him just as much as the first.

Before she could stick her hands into his pants, there was the sound of a throat clearing from behind them, sending Felicity crashing against Oliver's chest as she shrieked in horror. Oliver froze, glancing behind her at where the voice sounded from, and she could feel his shoulders relax, signaling to her that there was nothing to worry about.

"When you told me we were moving our base here, I didn't know it would leave me so many things to walk in on. If I had, I wouldn't have agreed so easily. Or maybe I would have invested in a blindfold."

"Digg," Oliver acknowledged, folding his lips in annoyance. "You're not supposed to be here for at least another hour."

"I wanted to come by a little earlier to see how Felicity's scans were running," he explained. "I see now that she was more focused on scanning something else."

Felicity pulled away from Oliver's chest, her eyes remaining closed. "In my defense, I haven't seen him all day, and he looks _really_ good in a suit."

"That really doesn't make me feel better when I just walked in on you with your hands down Oliver's pants," Diggle replied, wincing at the memory from not too long ago.

"Almost!" Felicity quickly corrected. "They were _almost_ down Oliver's pants."

Oliver frowned. "We need to get you a bell."

"Or maybe you two need to start having sex in your own space. Despite how happy I am that Mr. Broody finally has something to smile about," Diggle started, his words directed towards Felicity, "I can't afford the therapy I'm going to need if I walk in on you guys in the midst of dry humping one more time."

"Okay, we'll stop," Felicity agreed, and when Oliver tried to protest, she gave him a look that shut him up, telling Diggle more firmly, "We'll stop."

"Thank you," Diggle muttered, setting his hands on his hips and walking towards the back of the warehouse, where all the training equipment was.

It had been one month since she gave herself over to Oliver completely. One month of more love than she could ever imagine. He'd introduced her to his partner in crime, John Diggle, and she'd gotten along with him instantly. All three of them would communicate with each other when it came to their nightly activities, and it got to the point where Oliver questioned why they didn't just work in the same space.

Felicity thought that meant she'd be moving over to their base, so when Oliver suggested they move to hers, she couldn't even express her love for him. Diggle had no problem agreeing to it, and Felicity realized how logical it was. Her warehouse was bigger, more private, and had more safety with her installed systems.

When Diggle and Oliver had moved their training equipment into her warehouse, it occurred to her just how empty it was before that. Now, it all looked complete, and it definitely felt complete with them there. Plus, she discovered just how hot Oliver looked when he was doing the salmon ladder, and she thinks that's what she appreciates the most.

"Felicity," Oliver whined, earning back her attention.

She looked at him, tilting her head to the side. "Oliver, we have to respect Diggle. He shouldn't feel like he needs to knock before entering a space that is equally his."

"But if I can't have you here, then where can I?"

Felicity thought about it, seeing the truth in his words. "Hey, Diggle?"

Diggle lifted his head, facing her from across the room. "Yeah?"

"You know that room in the back that we haven't decided what we're going to use for yet?"

He nodded. "Yeah, why?"

"Well, I've just figured out what to use it for. And you will need to knock before entering that one," she answered, chuckling against Oliver's lips as Diggle shook his head, smiling despite himself.

"Have I told you how much I love you lately?" Oliver asked, furrowing his brows at Felicity.

She smiled, pecking his lips before giving his chest a playful shove. "Go spar with Digg."

This was her life now. She was no longer fighting this battle on her own. She had partners, friends, people who actually cared about her.

She couldn't ask for anything more.

* * *

 **A/N: Review please! :)**


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